Child's Play
by Spydertiger
Summary: A story of the one Noah who was born as two. Take a juvenile deliquent, a paranoid mother, drunkard father and the one normal person in the family, and you got yourself a recipe for insanity. No wonder Jasdero's messed up.
1. Chapter 1

**[a/n: a little something I wrote in about twenty minutes, just to see what would happen. So, um, don't take it too seriously, and don't expect updates. Yeah.]**

It had never been a terribly lovely garden, with its poorly kept lawns of withered yellow stalks and the struggling rosebuds that bloomed perhaps once every two years, but the woman who worked it never appeared to care. The neighbours would watch her over their garden walls with aversive eyes and mutter dubiously behind hands in the streets, wondering how long it would be before Loopy Loretta would suffer yet another breakdown and be admitted once more to the hospital. Some would shake their heads sorrowfully and cast their blames upon the husband; others denied this, insisting that the fault rested entirely with her children. And so they watched her every day as she would kneel before her plants as though praying, gathering desiccated plant remains upon her lap as yet another shrub failed to make a living for itself in her miscarriage of a garden.

Privately Loretta blamed no-one but herself for her gradually increasing problems; she shied from the accusations towards her husband of being a damnable man, and she defended her children with the blind desperation that only a persecuted mother knows, unseeing all but the worst of their misbehaviour and oddities, and at times even ignoring these. It was not her husband's fault that the family could no longer afford fresh food, nor was it her children's fault that every day her mind slipped a little bit more into the darker recesses of something that was not quite insanity, and yet still not a healthy state of being. No, they were entirely faultless, or at the very least one of them was. It was simply yet another topic of gossip for those insufferable neighbours; how could two twin brothers of the same parentage turn out so radically different? Despite never voicing this out loud, Loretta asked herself the same question often enough. How strange it was that her two sons spent so much time in each other's company - understandably, if one remembered that they were twins - and yet appeared to be of two utterly different persona. It was true, however, that recently they had not been seen together as often. Loretta had been too preoccupied with her own inner demons to worry about those associated with parenthood, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore her children's radical change in habit when one spent so much time away from home as to be barely there at all, while the other had taken to living in her shadow in the habit of a lonely duckling.

As she worked away at her dead and dying plants, she was aware of his timid presence somewhere behind her, and she was certain that if she were to turn around, he would be there as normal, hovering awkwardly on the house step and watching her with large, questioning eyes of a lost child.

And if she ignored him he still reached out to her, swaying with reluctance to leave his step, and calling tremulously with the voice of a pining puppy. On days when her thoughts troubled her to the point of horribly painful migraines, she merely blocked him out and continued working with only the slightest pang of guilt as he fell silent and continued to watch her wistfully, but on days such as this, her mind was wonderfully clear, clearer than ever before, and it was with a soft and reassuring countenance that she turned to face her son.

"Come and work with me in the garden, sweetpea," she said, brandishing a dried stalk.

He visibly shrank from her and shook his blonde head. "I don't want to, mama. I'm frightened," he answered miserably, twisting his soft child hands around themselves nervously.

"Why, whatever of?" she enquired with some surprise, laying the dead herb down at her feet and slowly heaving herself up to stroll over to him, holding her arms out invitingly.

But again he whimpered and shook his head like a dog trying to rid itself of some irksome flea, his gentle blonde curls dancing around his pale face.

"Come, Jasdero," she smiled up at him, holding her hands towards him from the ground as he trembled on the top house step. "I promise you, the garden is perfectly safe. I'll look after you."

"I'm still scared, mama," he told her, staring over her head at the yellows and greens of the ailing grass. "David…I mean - "

Loretta heaved a heavy sigh that caused her shoulders to rise and fall with the motion of one heavily burdened. "What has your brother told you this time?"

Jasdero looked distinctly panicked and he shook his head once more, refusing to speak.

"Tell me, Jasdero. I have to know when your brother misbehaves," she said sternly, folding her arms. His grey eyes filled with tears, as they were so apt to do so these days. "He made me promise…"

"Well, I am your mama. We are exempt from promises. So tell me," she repeated.

"David - said that there were bloodsuckers in the garden," whispered Jasdero at last, pointing at the flowerbeds with a trembling finger. "Over there…"

With a deep sigh Loretta lowered her arms and followed her son's frightened gaze to the only area of the garden which had demonstrated any form of success; the dark brown of the soil was gently interrupted with the green noses of tulip shoots that were just showing on the surface. They were rich and shiny with fattening plant juices, and yet still too young to be anything more than fingertips of a vivid chartreuse.

With a light laugh Loretta turned back to Jasdero, brushing her sandy hair from her pewter eyes as she did so. "Jasdero, those aren't bloodsuckers. They're just baby tulips."

"That's not what David says," whimpered Jasdero, shaking his arms so that the thick rolls of his jumper's woollen sleeves slid over his hands, hiding his neat little fingers. "He says that if you touch them…" His voice faded and cracked with emotion. "He said that they'll make a hole in your fingertip and…and suck all the blood right out like a straw."

Something clutched at Loretta's insides with a cold hand as she tried to imagine what Jasdero was describing. Her own hands trembled slightly and it was with an involuntary jerk of the head that she glanced downwards towards her cracked and fragile fingers, visualizing the blood shooting from so many tiny holes like a type of grotesque fountain. Shakily she raised her hands before her pale face and inspected them closely, blinking several times to reassure herself that there was indeed no red pouring down her skin.

Satisfied that she was safe for the moment, she turned her building frustrations upon her son. "That's a horrible thing to say, Jasdero," she said with a belligerent toss of the head, her untidy bun bobbing at the nape of her neck.

Jasdero's lower lip trembled with shame. "I didn't say it, mama. David told me…" he whined placatingly, timidly plucking at his mother's sleeve in an attempt to win her affection.

"Haven't I told you not to listen to him?" she snapped by way of a reply, shrugging him off her. "You know how he lies. Now go inside and leave me to tidy the garden."

"But mama…" Jasdero said unhappily, shuffling back a few steps out of fearful respect. "You've been in the garden all day. I…I'm hungry, mama."

Loretta blinked. Somewhere during the day she'd managed to forget that children had needs. After a moment's nervous hesitation, she pulled her gardening gloves off in one fluid motion and pushed past Jasdero into the sparsely furnished house, sidling down a narrow, poorly-lit corridor and into what could loosely be interpreted as a living room, although it possessed nothing by way of furniture beyond a threadbare sofa and a small coffee table, stained and marked all over its battered surface with the small circles of cigarette burns.

Jasdero followed his mother at a slower pace as he began chewing pensively on the hem of one sleeve, watching her with wide grey eyes that sat in his gaunt face like marbles. He glanced sideways at the front door as they passed on the way to the kitchen, running his gaze over the rusted hinges and the way in which the door did not quite fit into its frame, allowing the smallest and most vicious of breezes to creep into the house uninvited. The doorstep was stained with mud and filth, a clear sign that David had at some point come in from playing in the last week, although it was just as likely that Loretta had simply not bothered to clean for a while. In fact the mud appeared dried and old, crumbling at the edges. A pair of discarded shoes, several sizes too small for either Jasdero or David, lay underneath a row of coat hooks, empty save for a large dark coat that hung from its fur-lined hood. It had been there so long, unwanted and useless even in the winter months, that no one in the family was entirely sure who it belonged to any more.

Before Jasdero could follow his mother into the kitchen, there was a terrific thud which caused the door to vibrate abruptly in its poorly made frame. He froze on the spot. "Mama?" he called nervously, keeping one wary eye trained on the door.

"What is it, Jasdero?" she said irritably, leaning out of the kitchen.

"There's someone at the door, mama," he told her, pointing. He jumped as it emitted another heavy thump.

Loretta frowned and brandished a wooden spoon reproachfully. "Jasdero, the door makes that noise all the time. Now stop being silly and come have something to eat."

"No, mama," said Jasdero patiently, lowering his damp sleeve from his mouth. "When the door makes that sound, it means someone's trying to come in."

For a moment something flickered in Loretta's eyes, a small flash of uncertainty "Really? Someone…someone outside?"

"Yes, mama," he told her, and they both flinched violently as the door banged again, longer and more insistent this time. "Now we gotta let them in."

"No…" she whispered, letting the wooden spoon clatter on the floor as it slipped from her grasp. "No…No, Jasdero, leave the door. It's…it's okay." A strange, indeterminate smile crept over her tired features. "It's okay, Jasdero…there's no one there."

The knocks were becoming increasingly adamant, causing the door to shake more violently. Jasdero cast a frightened glance towards his mother. "I think there is, mama."

"Don't answer the door!" she said shrilly, advancing a step. "Do as your mother says, Jasdero! Go into the kitchen…and…and I'll make you some biscuits. Won't that be nice? Some ginger biscuits…" she trailed off, staring wide-eyed at the door. A few stray strands of hair had come loose from her already untidy chignon and hung in her eyes, making her appear even more morose and lost. What was saddest of all was that she had forgotten how to bake biscuits a long time ago.

Someone raised their voice on the other side of the door. "Would you please open this door? Hello?"

"Mama…"

"Don't, Jasdero…" Her voice had taken on a pleading note that was painful for Jasdero to hear, and he pressed his hands over his ears.

"Let me in!"

"Don't…"

Somewhere in Jasdero's twelve year-old mind he managed to work out that opening the door would effectively cut off both voices, and it was with a clenched jaw that he dashed forward, scrabbling at the heavy lock and pulling the door free of its splintered frame.

A distinctly overweight man stood before him, sporting an impressive black moustache and wearing the thick, heavy clothes of a blacksmith.

Loretta appeared behind Jasdero, smiling and bowing a little too much in an absurd attempt to hide her discomfort. "To what do I owe this pleasure, good sir?"

"Is this your son?" he said gruffly, shoving a small dark-haired boy forward while keeping a firm hold on the child's collar with a meaty hand. The boy wriggled irritably and scowled up at him.

Loretta stared at him for a moment, and then turned a helpless gaze upon Jasdero, who gave her a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Smiling with a little more confidence, she looked back up. "Yes," she said faintly. "Yes, he's mine. Why do you ask?"

"He's…well, he's been getting into quite a bit of mischief, I'm afraid to say," the man said seriously.

"Nuh uh!" yelled Jasdero's twin brother, struggling furiously against his grip. "You lie! He's a liar, mama!"

"Shush, David," frowned Loretta, putting a hand on Jasdero's shoulder. To the man, she said, "I'm sorry. Leave him with me, and I'll see it won't happen again."

"I'm sorry, but that's not going to be enough this time," the man sighed, loosening his grip on David. He immediately capitalized upon his momentary freedom and squirmed free, slipping past Jasdero to hide behind his mother, peering around her. When the man scowled at him, David shot back a triumphant grin and pulled a face.

The man coughed and turned his gaze back to Loretta. "He damages property. He attacks other children, people's pets and steals constantly. We've spoken to you about this before, ma'am."

"Have you?" replied Loretta vaguely, half-closing her eyes. "Oh, well…I'm sure he won't do it again…will you, David?"

"No, mama," he answered instantly.

"There you are," she murmured happily, almost to herself. "Everything is fine."

"I don't think you quite understand," the man said, aware that he was losing control of the conversation. "People in town are getting sick of his behaviour. Someone tried to call the police on him yesterday."

"Oh?" Loretta responded, assuming an expression of equivocal interest, her grey eyes clouding over, although whether with insouciance or genuine ill-being it was difficult to tell.

The man hesitated, biting his lip. "Do you understand? The _police_."

"I heard. How lovely."

"With all due respect ma'am…if you continue to allow your son to run wild like this, he's going to get into serious trouble."

"I know," she sighed, dropping her gaze and placing a loving hand on both her children's heads. "I'll get their father to have a word with them when he gets home tonight."

"No need," the man told her, turning to go. "I already spoke to your husband."

Loretta's head shot up, and her throat constricted with genuine fear. "What?"

"I saw him on my way here. He wanted to know where I was taking his son."

"What did you say?" whimpered Loretta. Her voice had become hushed with disquieted worry.

The man shrugged. "Just that your son has been causing trouble. And he wanted to know where you were. Good day, ma'am." Loretta watched as he strolled away down the street, her eyes quivering in their sockets and the wind picking up on her loose blonde hair.

"Mama?" Jasdero pulled at her hand nervously. "It's cold, mama. Let's…let's go inside?"

"Yes…yes…." It was with a preoccupied air that Loretta turned away and closed the door.

David stood on the doorstep and glowered up at her out of the gloom of the house, awaiting the anticipated punishment. To his surprise, Loretta merely stood there and stared vacantly back, as though unsure as to exactly what to do.

Eventually she spoke. "Why, David?"

He replied with nothing more than sullen silence. Next to him Jasdero danced nervously from one foot to other, clearly wanting to say something but nervous about interrupting the thickly tense atmosphere.

With tears in her eyes, Loretta placed her hands on David's cheeks and tilted his face upwards. Both Loretta and her husband possessed the same sandy coloured hair that was so apparent in Jasdero; David alone had inherited his now-deceased grandmother's black hair, effectively making him the 'dark horse' of the family. Once upon a time it had been a source of affection, something that made David Loretta's special little boy, but after her illness he had been forced to mature rapidly and suddenly Loretta had found herself pushing an uncomfortable boundary between her and this now rather bellicose pre-teen boy that her son had become.

On his part, David had suddenly found himself going from being the beloved special child of the family, doted on by his mother and practically idolized by his brother, to being an object of irritation for his father and, bizarrely, a source of anxiety for his mother. After her return from the hospital she spent long hours lying in a darkened room, reluctant to see him. David interpreted this as dislike, and it was with a sulky hurt that he retired into himself, suddenly averse to talking even with his own twin brother.

In his loneliness, Jasdero had turned to Loretta for comfort, watered-down and rare though it was. Now he clung anxiously to her trembling arm and his gaze darted rapidly between his brother and mother. There was a silence in which David and Loretta stared at each other, and then Loretta snapped her eyes away once more. "Very well. Why don't we just forget this incident and - and go have some tea?" She smiled again. "Won't that be nice?"

Humming to herself, she shrugged Jasdero off and flounced off to the kitchen once more. David shot Jasdero a sullen glare, which Jasdero returned with a hesitant smile. "Mama's forgotten she can't cook again."

"Then she's stupid, isn't she?"

Jasdero hesitated. "You know…about…about…"

"About what?" demanded David, sitting down and pulling his shoes off.

"The bloodsuckers. In the garden."

"Yeah? You didn't touch 'em, did you?"

"Noo…" Jasdero sat down awkwardly next to his brother. "Only…mama said they weren't dangerous. Not at all."

David sat up once more, and narrowed his black eyes at his brother's grey ones. After a silence, he shrugged. "Well, mama thinks the walls can talk to her." He got to his feet and stomped off into the house.

Jasdero stayed put, pushing his fingers through the holes in his jumper sleeves in a preoccupied manner.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair that night. Jasdero and David sat on one side of the table, side-by-side but not talking, and their parents stared at them from their own seats opposite. At least, Loretta did, with her wide anxious gaze and the half-burnt dinner sitting forgotten in front of her. Next to her, a broad-shouldered man hunched over his plate, shovelling food in at an amazing rate. One got the impression, however, that he was merely eating to stave off any need to talk to the others gathered around the table with him. His unwashed hair was, compared to Loretta's dirty blonde tresses, very pale, matching his son's exactly, and he gave the general impression of a man who had once been powerfully built but had in recent years begun to sag a bit.

When he briefly raised his head from his poor excuse of a meal, Ansel's tired blue eyes narrowed ominously as he set them upon the darker-haired of his two boys. David hunched his shoulders petulantly and glared down at the table, hands clenched in his lap as he resolutely refused to touch his food. Next to him, Jasdero glanced from his twin to the fork in his own hand, and then stared up at Ansel with large, questioning eyes.

Ignoring Jasdero, Ansel raised his own fork and jabbed it in David's direction. "I spoke to Arthur today."

David muttered something indiscernible. Irritated, Ansel stabbed down at a partially-cooked potato with unnecessary vehemence. "What was that?"

"I said, he's a liar," said David loudly, his black eyes flashing as he lifted his chin and glared across the table at his father.

"David, don't…" whispered Loretta pathetically, her eyes darting between her husband and child. "You're frightening Jasdero," she added imploringly, a ploy that used to work very well in the past.

"Arthur is _not_ a liar," insisted Ansel crossly. "You're the liar, David. I want the truth from you - have you been causing all this trouble in town?"

"No."

Jasdero said nothing, but dropped his gaze back to his half-eaten meal, suddenly feeling devoid of any appetite. Across the table, Loretta mimicked him, toying unenthusiastically with a piece of overdone meat and trying to ignore the manner in which David and Ansel were now glowering at each other across the table, each apparently trying to unsettle the other.

"Do you have any idea how much money your behaviour is costing us?" snapped Ansel, throwing his fork down with a clatter. "You've broken six windows in the past week!"

"By accident!" David shouted back suddenly, leaping to his feet, fists clenched. Jasdero shrank into the neck of his jumper like a startled turtle, whimpering incoherently.

"Don't raise your voice at me!" bellowed Ansel, banging a fist on the table and causing the cutlery to jump several inches into the air. Loretta twisted in her seat and clung onto her husband's forearm, shaking her head and wailing desperately. "Ansel, leave him! He's just a boy, he doesn't understand!"

Angrily Ansel shrugged her off, and pointed furiously at their son. "Of course he understands, Loretta! He just doesn't care, that's all! He doesn't care that I work my fucking ass off every day to pay for all this, and all that fucking money is just going to everything he bloody breaks!"

"Please, Ansel," sniffed Loretta, releasing him to scurry around to the other side of the table, where she flung her arms around the now sobbing Jasdero. "Don't swear and shout…not in front of the children." As she spoke she reached out to grip David's shoulder, but he flinched away from her touch, shooting her a furious glare.

Loretta's lip trembled, much like Jasdero's. "D-David?"

Abruptly he stuck his tongue out her with a sharp, furious movement, empty of the kind of endearing childish humour that he once exhibited in the past. Before anyone could say anything further, David kicked his chair out the way and darted out of the room. They all heard his footsteps thundering noisily up the stairs, and Loretta and Jasdero flinched together at the sound of the bedroom door being slammed as hard as possible.

There was a long, very uneasy silence in which Jasdero snuffled morosely into the thick material of his sweater. Loretta clung on to him, her unhealthy yellowed fingernails digging into his shoulders as she trembled against him, her discomforts renewed.

All but the closest observer would have missed the way in which Ansel clenched his hand around his fork handle, so hard that the skin around his knuckles whitened. In silence his wife soothed Jasdero, running her hands through his untidy hair and patting his shoulder in a rather abstracted, distrait manner. Clearly her movements were supposed to be reassuring and mild, but Loretta was unused to comforting children and her fingers tensed in his hair rather painfully, extracting a distressed whine from the small blonde boy.

Eventually Loretta worked up the courage to release her son and slowly descended into David's vacated seat, fixing her wide grey eyes on the stained floor. Ansel sighed heavily, and began poking at his now cold and withered meal, his forehead creased with ire.

Jasdero pattered over the splintered wooden floorboards, the frayed sleeves of his ill-fitting pyjamas hanging limply over his emaciated hands. David lay on his stomach in bed, still clothed and hiding his chin in one curved arm. With the other he was sliding a small wooden train back and forth over the bed's headboard in a somnolent manner, dark eyes following the movement as devotedly as though his life depended on it.

Awkwardly Jasdero clambered into his own bed and crossed his legs with the inelegant grace of a giraffe so typical in boys suffering their growth spurt. He automatically raised his thumb to his mouth and began sucking contentedly, watching his twin brother play with the battered toy train.

After a very long silence, Jasdero removed his thumb once more and wiped his mouth on one pyjama sleeve. "David."

David didn't look up, but merely shrugged one shoulder in a dismissive manner.

Swallowing hard, Jasdero hugged his knees to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. "David…"

The train clattered to the floor and David rolled onto his side, fixing Jasdero with a sullen glare, dried tear tracks staining his pale cheeks. "What?"

"Did you - did you really break all those windows?" asked Jasdero in hushed tones, aware that he was trespassing on a sensitive subject.

It was with a kind of cold discernment David that appraised his twin, and then he sat up straight, swinging his legs to dangle them off the sagging edge of his bed. "Yeah."

Slightly awed, Jasdero shuffled to the edge of his own, leaning forward. "R-really?"

David shrugged in an offhand manner. "Easy." He raised an arm demonstratively, drawing it back and flicking it forward with an expert, practised motion. "Just get a rock. Phwoooo. Smash."

And then Jasdero voiced the forbidden word, the question that David had been hoping would never come up.

"Why?"

Unaware that he'd done anything wrong, Jasdero clasped his hands on his knees and stared at David with wide, innocent eyes, expectantly awaiting an answer.

Sliding off his bed and landing on the floor, David scowled and wiped his nose on his jumper sleeve. "I dunno."

"Are - are you angry?"

Again David shrugged one shoulder, staring hard at his socks.

Jasdero hesitated, and then took the plunge. "Are you angry at me?"

For a moment David considered this prospect, but in spite of everything he still was closer to Jasdero than anyone else, and he couldn't quite bring himself to move his twin brother to tears. " - Nah, Jas."

"Are you angry at Dad?"

At this David suddenly lost his temper, snatching the discoloured pillow from his bed and throwing it at Jasdero as hard as he could. It hit Jasdero in the face with a muffled 'fwumph', but didn't harm him beyond making him fall backwards onto his mattress.

Irritated at his pathetic attempt to shut Jasdero up, David clenched both fists and set his teeth. "It's none of your business, all right? I don't care about Dad anyway, he's - he's stupid!"

Trembling slightly now, Jasdero dragged the pillow off his face and peeped over the top at David. "You - you're shouting again, David…"

"Stop crying, you big baby."

"Don't shout at me!" wailed Jasdero, crushing the pillow tight in his thin little arms. "I don't like it!"

"I don't care," replied David sourly, turning on the spot and stomping towards the only window in their room. In spite of himself Jasdero lowered the pillow a little more to watch as his brother clambered cumbersomely onto a creaky wooden chair and, wobbling in an ungainly manner, yank the window open. "What're you doing?"

"Going for a walk," answered David shortly, pulling himself through the window. "Don't tell anyone," he added, glaring over his shoulder. "Or else I'll bash you."

Jasdero stared stupidly at the empty space left behind by his twin dropping to the ground below, and then suddenly threw the pillow aside, leaped out of bed and scurried over to the window, placing both hands on the windowsill and thrusting his head and shoulders through into the cold night air.

Below, David was brushing his dirt-stained knees down as he got to his feet. Waving one hand, Jasdero hissed urgently down to him. "David! David, wait for me!"

He, unlike David, had never done this before, and it was with a nervous caution that Jasdero squeezed through the open window to balance himself on the outside sill. As the wind suddenly sprang up, whistling through his blonde curls, his mouth opened wide in shock and he began to whimper. "David! David, I'm scared! I'm gonna fall!"

"You stupid!" David yelled up at him. "Get back inside!"

"I can't!" Jasdero dug both hands into the brickwork of the house and stared down at the upturned face of his brother. "What do I do?"

"Jump!"

"It's too high!"

"No, it's not," called David scornfully, gesturing somewhere to his left. "Jump at them bushes there, it hurts less."

He winced as Jasdero tumbled ungracefully into the foliage, disappearing in a rush of blonde hair and disturbed leaves. Impatiently he waited for the other boy to emerge, but after several minutes of nothing, David bit his lip, a sudden anxiety gnawing at the pit of his stomach. "…Jasdero?"

The leaves stirred slightly, and then Jasdero rolled out of the bushes, twigs and leaves adorning every tangle of his hair. One cheek was smeared with earth and there was a bloody graze above his left eyebrow. His eyes, predictably, were filled with tears. "I hurt myself, David."

"That's 'cuz you did it wrong," snorted David, pulling Jasdero to his feet. "You're not s'posed to just _fall_ like that, stupid."

"You didn't tell me!" wailed Jasdero, clapping a hand to his wound. "I'm all bloody!"

"Shut up, you idiot," snarled David, glancing urgently back up at the house. "You don't want to give us away, do you? Now get back in the house - the back door's unlocked."

"I don't wanna."

"I - what?" demanded David, completely thrown by this change of events. Jasdero _always_ did what he was told, he _always_ listened, whether to his brother or his parents. He was a follower, not a leader.

And here he was, drawing himself up like he was in charge for once. "I want to come with you."

"You _can't_," scowled David. "I don't want you following me around."

Jasdero folded his arms. "You can't stop me."

"You're in your pyjamas," David pointed out. "You'll get cold."

"But you've got no shoes on."

"Neither have you."

"So?" cried Jasdero, stamping both feet on the cold, hard earth. "I don't want to be left on my own! What if Dad starts shouting again? You _know_ I don't like that, it's not fair, I - "

"Shut up," David interrupted him, clapping a hand to Jasdero's mouth. For a moment they regarded each other, the grey eyes meeting the black, and then David slowly nodded, his untidy dark hair falling over his forehead. "Okay. Fine."

Jasdero swallowed as David released, suddenly apprehensive. "Where are you going?"

David grinned suddenly. "You want to see something cool?"

"…what?"

With a covert, clandestine manner, David glanced furtively over both shoulders and then leaned closer. "I know where there's a _dead body_."

Jasdero clapped both hands to his mouth. "No you don't."

"Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't."

"You calling me a liar?" snapped David, snatching Jasdero's hand up in his own. "C'mon. I'll prove it to you."

Reluctantly Jasdero allowed David to drag him away from the house, across the dirty, rubbish strewn earth that lined the sides of their home and through a hole in the rotting fence. The street outside was silent and yellowed with street lamps, utterly empty save for a single plastic bag blowing morosely by in the wind.

David lead his brother down the street at a run, pulling him past houses shrouded in darkness and the local post-office, boarded up and silent in the night. At the end of the street the road curved sharply to the right, but straight ahead was a rusted metal gate, leading off the pavement onto a large area of grassland where locals liked to take their dogs and children to play.

Jasdero stared around with wide eyes as he was dragged through the empty, dilapidated playground that he used to play in before Loretta had to go to the hospital. The swings swung slightly as they passed, stirred by a stray breeze, and the dried, dead grass crunched under foot, pricking Jasdero's soft bare feet.

"David, where - "

"Shut up," David said curtly, continuing past the abandoned jungle-gym and the seesaw he and Jasdero played on together, years ago. Beyond the playground equipment the grass continued, into a large field-like area fringed with hedges and trees.

David slowed to a walk, releasing Jasdero's hand from his own, and strode over to the nearest hedgerow, glancing over his shoulder. Anxiously Jasdero stared back, and the stray thumb crept back between his lips as he tried to reassure himself. He'd never been out without his mother before.

"There you go," said David, sticking both hands in his pockets and moving a few branches aside with one foot. "Dead as a doornail."

Jasdero stared down at the bloated, lifeless form of a small terrier, lying on its side as though it had simply fallen asleep. Except its swollen, flyblown tongue hung limply from its opened mouth, and its fur was mangy and rotting in places, showing evidence of decay. The stench was overwhelming, and Jasdero staggered back, pinching his nose in disgust. "Ew, that's gross!"

"Yeah, watch this," David said eagerly, snatching up a stick. In spite of himself, Jasdero watched with horrified eyes as the other boy raised the stick and, leaning forward, prodded the dog's corpse with a sharp, jabbing movement. It rolled stiffly from side to side, legs held rigidly in place by rigor mortis.

Jasdero plucked at his brother's sleeve, and began to whine. "Don't do that David, it's horrible…"

"You baby," snorted David, but he tossed the stick aside all the same.

In silence they stood there, staring down at the dog.

Eventually Jasdero spoke up. "Did _you_ kill it, David?"

"Don't be stupid, Jas," muttered David. "I _like_ dogs."

"No, you don't," insisted Jasdero. "You kicked Mrs. Connie's sheepdog last week. Mamma told me."

"It was barking at me," retorted David. "And I didn't _kick_ it. I just threw a brick at it."

"See?"

"See what?"

"You don't like dogs."

"I don't like them when they're noisy," explained David with a scowl. "This one's not noisy."

"That's 'cuz it's _dead_," indicated Jasdero.

"…It looks kind of like that dog from down the road," said David by way of a reply, clearly keen on changing the subject. "You know. From the big house with the red door."

"The one that chased me home from school once?"

"Yeah."

"…I liked that dog," said Jasdero slightly sadly, shivering in his thin pyjamas. "Even thought it chased me."

"Me too," admitted David, frowning under his dark hair. "It used to roll over so you could rub its tummy."

"And it liked to chase sticks."

"And - "

There was a bark behind the two boys that made the pair jump about a foot in the air. David cast a startled glance over one shoulder, blinking rapidly. "What the - "

A small terrier sat behind them, head cocked curiously to one side as it stared up at them with an expectant air.

With a squeal of delight Jasdero immediately dropped to his knees, extending both hands. "It's a doggie, David!"

"Yeah…" David cast his gaze around the empty, darkened field. He raised a hand and cupped it around his mouth. "Oi! We got your dog here! Anyone there?"

The dog retreated from Jasdero's outstretched fingers, tongue hanging out and tail still wagging furiously. It had short, stocky legs and a short, rough-haired white coat patterned with brown and black splotches. There was one particularly large brown patch covering the left ear and most of its eye socket.

"Huh." David shrugged and dropped to join Jasdero on the ground, frowning at the dog with narrowed eyes. "I wonder who's it is?"

"David…"

"Maybe its lost."

"David…"

"Maybe we should take it home."

"David!"

"What?" snapped David back, glaring at Jasdero."

"It's - it's the dog from down the road," said Jasdero in hushed tones, blinking rapidly.

"Don't be stupid," sighed David, rolling his eyes. "That dog died last year, remember?"

"It is David, it really is."

The dog sat back on its haunches and barked excitedly, tail thumping eagerly on the ground.

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is." Jasdero pointed. "See? I remember the brown ear and eye."

"Nah, it's just a coincidence."

"And the black tip on the tail."

"Stop being stupid, Jas," snapped David, elbowing his brother hard. "It's just a random stray."

"It's even wearing the same red collar."

"What?" David frowned and leaned forward, squinting hard at the dog. Hanging around its thick neck was an expensive-looking red leather collar. A golden tag shone slightly in the pale moonlight overhead.

Cautiously David leaned forward, and tentatively stretched his fingers towards the dangling disk of metal, hesitating slightly for fear that dog would react violently. After a pause, it merely sat there, panting vacantly, and so David swallowed hard and twisted the tag between his fingers to get a better view of the name engraved on the golden surface.

They both examined it carefully, with difficulty in the moonlight.

"It says…_Alfie_," Jasdero announced.

They looked at each other.

"What was the dog from down the road called?"

"Alfie."

"You're lying," muttered David. "It can't be the same dog, that makes no sense."

"But it _is_."

The dog put its head to the other side, one ear pointed endearingly skywards.

Angrily David got to his feet, furious that he'd encountered something that didn't make sense to him. "Let's go home, Jas. You're shivering."

"But _David_…"

"But David, _what_?" he demanded viciously, yanking Jasdero to his feet. "Come _on_."

"The dog was dead…and now it's not."

"I told you, _stop that_," snarled David, whacking his brother hard in the back of the head. "It's _not the same dog_."

"We brought it back, David," insisted Jasdero. "We were talking about it, and then - and then it _came back_."

"Shut _up_."

The dog sat firmly on the floor, staring from David to Jasdero, and suddenly emitted an excitable, high-pitched bark, clearly desperate for attention.

"Can we take it home?" asked Jasdero suddenly, digging his fingers into David's upper arm. "Oh please? Please, please, _pleeeaaase_?"

With a snarl of rage, David shrugged his brother off. "No way. Dad'd go ballistic."

"But he's soo cute!" wailed Jasdero, pointing at the dog.

And right before their eyes, the dog faded away.

There was a silence, and then Jasdero began whining unhappily. "It's gone, David, it's gone! Why'd the dog go? It's gooone!"

Feeling distinctly wrong-footed, David staggered back a few feet. "Jasdero…I - let's - let's go home."

"But - "

Angrily David slapped a hand to his brother's mouth once more. "Shut _up_." Amid Jasdero's muffled protests, David began hauling his brother away from the bloated corpse of the dead terrier, and the patch of dried grass where the bizarre apparition of the renowned 'Alfie' had sat. "Come on Jas." He lead Jasdero away at a run, staring wildly through the dark with panicked eyes. "Let's get the hell away from here."

"But _why_?"

"For chrissakes!" snarled David, thumping Jasdero's shoulder as they ran. "The dog fucking _disappeared_! Don't you _care_?"

Jasdero opened his mouth to reply, hesitated, and then blinked several times very rapidly. "You just _swore_, David!"

"So?"

"Like…Like Dad…" bleated Jasdero unhappily.

At this, David suddenly skidded to a halt, released Jasdero's hand and wheeled to face him, expression livid. "What did you say?"

"N-nothing," whimpered Jasdero.

"I'm _not_ like Dad," snarled David, jabbing a finger hard into his brother's chest. "Don't you _ever_ say that, ever, or you'll be _sorry_."

"Sorry."

"Yeah."

They regarded each other in silence for a moment as the cold wind picked up, causing Jasdero's hair to dance madly around his thin face, and David's to nearly stand up on end on top of his head.

Then David nodded slowly, his scowl softening slightly. "Okay." He stuck both hands deep in his pockets, and slowly turned to start walking once more. "Okay."

Jasdero's worried mouth spread into a delighted smile and he jogged after David once more, ignoring the way in which the wind tore through his thin pyjamas.

They walked side by side past the bushes, past the empty, rusting swings and back onto the silent street.

After a while, Jasdero spoke up once more, tentatively. "David?"

"…what?"

"The - the dog."

"Huh."

"Where did it come from?"

"I don't know, Jasdero."

"Where did it go?"

"I don't know, Jasdero."

"Was it a ghost?"

David shrugged. "I _don't know_. Maybe - maybe it was magic. Or something."

Jasdero frowned thoughtfully at that, and he continued in silence for some way. Then at last he spoke up once more. "Yeah, David." He bared his teeth in an ecstatic grin. "It was magic!"

Swallowing, David's frown deepened and he looked deliberately away. " - sure Jas." He bit his lip. "Magic."


End file.
